109. ZEN FABLE: The river crossing

This is a well-known Buddhist story that has appeared in many different versions over the past century. There are even Catholic and Jewish retellings. After some digging (with help from reader, Wayne P) the original author of the fable seems to be a famous Japanese Zen master named Tanzan, who was the professor of philosophy during the Meiji period. This particular version of the story is taken from the great book Zen in the Martial Arts, by Joe Hyams, who was a student of Bruce Lee.

I think the lesson of the story is pretty simple. The younger monk has become so trapped by dogma and rules that he has forgotten the most important rule, which is to help those in need. How did you interpret it?

the point is the elder monk has the spirit behind the rule in his heart, in that the action of helping a woman acrross does not fill him with desire. the younger monk is so intensely focused on following the rule absolutely because he is fearful of his own desires for the woman

This one wins. Sorry I just really strongly feel all other interpretations, including the one in the caption, are wrong. Not completely of course. But Z310 here captured the single most important point.

You clearly don’t understand the nature of Zen teaching and learning. There is no strict interpretation that is “more right” than any others. Each person must fine their own interpretation, that resonates with their own soul and provides them the answer that they need. There is no universal answer, and there is no answer that is “wrong” in the strict sense that you are using.

It’s not about breaking rules, but being honest about them, like Cicero once said. If you’re looking for justification for your actions in the rules, you’re not being hones about them, deeming the rule (or law, as he would have said) useless. Rules should aim towards justice, if they’re used for unfair purposes, they are not rules.

What? No. It’s not about desire at all. I don’t understand where you got that from.

Don’t just take everything at face value, this quote could be about a dog, anvil, child, basket of food…anything. It’s the message you should focus on.

Why would he be saying; ‘Why are you still carrying her?’ if the message was about desire? That’s not a good way to pose a question. He would say ‘thinking’ or ‘wondering about’ or ‘obsessing’ etc. if it was about desire.

I disagree. “Carrying” could mean carrying the thought of her in his mind, could it not? And why would the monk keep doing that?…..Because he desired her, hence why it remained on his mind that the rule was “broken” by the older monk. Despite following the rules, his desire got the better of him, as the elder monk pointed out.

I’m going to side with Ginkgink here, but for different reasons. The specific language has very little to do with it. I believe the whole fable is about the nature of law.

In a sense this fable illustrates the letter/spirit of the law distinction, but it takes it slightly further. I interpret this as the acolyte adhering to the letter of the law (no physical contact with women) and believing that to be the extent of the law’s existence. On the other hand, the priest not only grasps the spirit of the law (no intimacy with women), but the goal of the law (no attachment).

Therefore the priest can act counter to the letter, but in line with the spirit and goal of the law by carrying the woman and then letting her go off his back and off his mind. Meanwhile the acolyte, by focusing too much on the letter of the law has actually formed an attachment to the woman, even if it isn’t intimate. In a sense, he’s still carrying her.

I believe this is a fable about understanding as a virtue, not self control as a virtue.

Why are you people arguing about the meaning of this? Don’t you understand Zen and Buddhist philosophy AT ALL? There is no “universal answer” to this riddle; we each must find the answer that resonates with our being. Quit arguing; no one is right or wrong. There is no universal truth, there is only the truth that we each find within the framework of our own lives. That is the beauty of these Zen sayings: there is no right or wrong answer, there is only the answer that speaks to us as an individual.

The same story also comes up in expositions on the Bhagavad Gita. It’s about mental turbulence. The younger monk has not evolved enough self control; he fears his own reaction to the beautiful woman. The older man, perfect in his equipoise, needn’t concern himself with such rules since he has transcended them.

Why are you people arguing about the meaning of this? Don’t you understand Zen and Buddhist philosophy AT ALL? There is no “universal answer” to this riddle; we each must find the answer that resonates with our being. Quit arguing; no one is right or wrong. There is no universal truth, there is only the truth that we each find within the framework of our own lives. That is the beauty of these Zen sayings: there is no right or wrong answer, there is only the answer that speaks to us as an individual.

I’m going to have to disagree with your interpretation here. The point of this fable has nothing to do with desire, but instead is a story about attachment.

When the old monk says, “I put the girl down on the other side of the stream”, it means that his attachment to the girl and the breaking of rules for the sake of being a kind human being are things of the past, things not worthy of burdening the mind with any longer.

His followup, “Why are you still carrying her?” implies that even though she is no longer relevant to the moment, the young monk is still burdening his mind with his attachment to her (not in the desire sense, but the object of focus sense), and her momentary relation to the old monk breaking the sect’s rules.

One of Zen Buddhism’s primary teachings is that attachment to not only material things, but attachment to ideas and notions of little or no consequence, all leads to suffering. This is expressed in the story by the young monk fuming while he crosses the river, which could be interpreted as a form of suffering.

BRAVO, Bojo! Having studied Buddhism on my own time, at my own direction, I came to the same conclusion. Attachment, in its myriad forms, can be distracting and destructive – that’s why “letting go” tends to feel so good.

My own takeaway from the story is the same one Bojo writes about here. This is not to say that it is the “right” or “best” meaning of the story. As others have pointed out, there are many facets to the story, and it is illusory to say that any of them is more valid or central than the others.

I myself have suffered greatly from my failure to put things down and let things go. I used to become very angry at any number of things that were bothering me, especially distracting sources of noise: loud conversations, noisy vehicles, blaring radios. I would get angry at the noise, and that anger would bleed over into anger at the person making the noise. How dare they be so noisy! Have they no consideration for others! I’m trying to concentrate here! And don’t get me started about right-wing politicians and pundits, and those who swallow their lies, or people who smoke in public.

As Atticus Finch so aptly pointed out, hate hurts the hater more than the hated. I’ve lost several jobs due to my anger. I’ve alienated people who could have been friends. I’ve hurt my relationship with my family.

Thanks to various novels with a Buddhist perspective, and this webcomic right here, I’ve learned to detach from these things. It works. You don’t have to believe in reincarnation or the six realms or the thirty-two excellent signs or any of the other supernatural trappings of Buddhism. You don’t have to think about any life other than the one you know for a fact you have, right here on Earth. Detachment and metta improve life, right now. All you have to do is work at it with goodwill and sincerity.

Additionally, I was also thinking that personal morals should be like the water in the river, always moving, flexible, adaptable. Bruce Lee already formulated it perfectly:

“Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless — like water. Now you put water in a cup, it becomes the cup; You put water into a bottle it becomes the bottle; You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Now water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.”

The version I’ve heard doesn’t have this particular dogma in it, so it’s likely a newer version. In this version, it is a woman with lots of packages from shopping and an elderly servant who is incapable of carrying her. She demands the monks carry her across, and when the older one does, she leaves without thanking him, but at least the servant no longer has to deal with her raving. The younger monk fumes about her rudeness, and when he finally says something to the older monk, the elder says the same line about why the younger was still carrying her. So in this instance it wasn’t about dogma, but about the everyday annoyances that can cause great damage when a person holds onto anger, and about how a moment of sacrifice can improve another person’s circumstances (the harried servant) even if it benefits someone undeserving. I think it’s also about letting go of the need for satisfaction, judgement and gratitude. Service should be service regardless of reward.

There’s a version of this in the children’s book “Zen Shorts” by Jon Muth. It’s the version where the woman is rude and has many packages and demands to be carried across the water. The younger monk fumes about it all day, and when he finally says something to the elder, that’s when he asks why he is still carrying her. I’ve always loved this and I often think I should practice it more…

The point of buddhsim is freeing your mind from falsehood, attachment and desire. I believe this is not so much about the monk being trapped in dogma, but being trapped in his own mind.

For the elder, the act of carrying the girl across the river was a simple, untrascendental act, and thus his mind and spirit are not affected by it. The young one, on the other hand, cannot overcome the burden of his own thoughts, and he becomes enraged and loses his inner peace.

The more inner peace one has, the more of that energy is transmitted to others. Thats how I see it.

Gavin, I love your beautiful work!
This story can be seen as a commentary on the purpose of Buddhism itself. Both major schools, Mahayana and Hinayana (large and small Vehicles) are just that — rafts across the river from ignorance to enlightenment. Once you reach the farther shore, you leave the raft behind. Once you are Buddha, you leave Buddhism behind. How wonderful!

I also agree with Carles; the acolyte is still focussed on the rules, not the meaning behind them.

Poor old fall-guy acolytes always cop the rough end of the pineapple in these tales (something about the victors getting to write them?;-) The thing is, he’d still be doing the hard yakka of learning the rules; laying down the ‘muscle memory’. (How many hours does it take to be an expert at anything? 10000?) His master has gone beyond that, and just does.

When I first read that story, the lady was not nearly so kind,
When the monks got to the side of the river, they saw a grand sedan chair, with a beautiful woman inside. It was so grand and decorated that the men could not carry it, and the lady, across the river.
The older monk offered to carry her across.
When they got to the other side, the lady jumped off his back, got in her chair and left, without thanking the kind monk.
The rest of the story is very similar, with the younger monk fuming at the woman’s rudeness.
Oh, and for some reason they were all animals (it was a children’s book)

The lesson I always get from this story is to forgive and forget those who are rude or mean to you, and not to carry that negativity with you.
But brilliant comic, ever time I open this website, they just get better and better.

I stay tuned into your site now for the latest updates! Another one well done! Would you believe I published the same story on my website this morning in California?? Crazy! It must be the Pacific Ocean air 😉 http://selenasage.com/moving-on/

The first reply says it well: it is about the difference between blind adherence and genuine wisdom.

This is not so uncommon in Zen, as a general observation. A lot of zen tales and fables intentionally undercut the “seriousness” of zen studios, to try and get students to see that if they fixate too much on the rules and forms of zen, they will fail to understand zen.

For example, another classic: a master sends a student to his new room and asks him to meditate. The student tries, but his room is in disrepair. The candles have worn down. There’s a leak in the roof. The floor is bare and cold. The student tries his best for days, but goes to the master in frustration. He says he cannot overcome the distractions in his room. His master goes to inspect the room. Then, the master asks him why he has not informed the groundskeeper that his room needs new candles, a rug, and a leak plugged.

The student obviously was so focused on achieving the “power” of zen that he assumed every little practical distraction was something to tune out with willpower alone… a pointless exercise when it was more productive to make his quarters comfortable so he could meditate in peace.

Maybe all this is a reason why some Zen masters say “if you meet someone who claims they are a Zen master, they aren’t.”

This is what the world is missing at times,we have so much engrossed in how things are supposed to be that we forget little act of kindness,hospitality and love, more like the story of the good Samaritan from the bible.

“6. Subhuti asked, “Lord, will there always be people who understand your message?”

Buddha answered, “Don’t doubt it, Subhuti! There will always be people who, hearing the message, will adhere to the precepts and practice our way. Our message will reach people simply because it is true! There will come a time when many will no longer need words, but will be beyond words. We must all strive to go beyond the words, because words can be clung to, and we should not cling to things. Understand that the words of the Buddha are like a raft built to cross a river: When its purpose is completed, it must be left behind if we are to travel further!”

Such beautiful expressions! Well done on another great one!
As the Buddhist monk Ajahn Brahm says, “It’s not about the container, it’s about the contents.” If you do not practice compassion, then there’s no point in doggedly sticking to tradition where you simulate it!

It’s a rich message, but here’s my favorite point to it: the older monk has overcome his fear — of the woman, of sexuality, of the forbidden, of his own physical response. He is not afraid of the possibility of mishap, and accordingly, is able to do a good deed, and help another person, without being blocked by his own fear.

The younger man, trying to keep himself safe by vehemently rejecting his connection with a person who embodies his fear, has instead condemned himself to a prison of fear. Not only that, it’s made him act like a jerk. His fear has turned to anger and condemnation, to justify his refusal to help. He’s taken the prohibition and made into a permanent, souring burden.

This story could have made the same point in any number of ways, but it specifically chooses a young woman as the source of fear. That’s not a random choice. It’s what makes this simple story so poweerful, right down to the present. Misogyny, and other forms of bigotry, are an even greater problem today than they were in this era. What we fear, we reject, and teach ourselves to hate. We become strident and angry. We denounce others who do not share our fear, people who act in tolerance and express kindness and compassion. We demand that all others share out anger and hatred, or else become an object of hatred in turn. And all this, we attempt to justify on the grounds of religious teachings and dogma — teachings that came from a source that also valued love, kindness, and charity.

The meaning is: “let it go”, that is fundamental in Buddhism. The young acolyte portraits the casual listener, that would think at first that the action of the elder is contradictory. But it isn’t, because the essence of the problem aren’t the women for the male monks: the cause of dukka (suffering, stress) is clinging, is the desire. Women are OK, what it isn’t is “Greed”, that is one of the “Poison”.

So the elder let his desire go, he doesn’t depend on it. He his freed from the desire and he is free to help the girl: compassion is another fundamental concept, and there is this dilemma too, you are renouncing to compassion, but why? It is because of the *fear* of the desire and/or because you believe blindly in a rule – but if you read the Kalama Sutta, you understand that you shouldn’t believe in something, just because your teacher told it. You should understand it better and deeper.

Ideally, you don’t even have to make an effort to avoid the girl – or better the desire – because here it comes dukka again. You have to let it go away, not to combat it and filling your mind with thoughts about how to combat it. Once you let go the thought and the desire, you are freed: you don’t have to think to avoid it, it just have no influence on you. You are free.

So once the elder left the girl, he no longer think of her (unlike the younger who will not sleep that night, thinking of the soft body of girl pressed on his back).

one denies the favor and this issue sticks in his mind forever stealing precious time away, the one who made the deed moves on… stop innocent staff from consuming you even if that action goes against your rules

I dont know if it has already been said, but the version I heard was that they wern’t allowed to speak aswell, and that is why the young monk took so long to speak out, but thats neither here nor there really.

I love this story, have you heard the one with the japanese farmer, his horses and his son?

i read a similar version, except towards the end, after they depart with the lady, they continue their path. few hours later, the young monk ask, confused, “Why did you carry that lady when we are forbid to touch a women?”
old monk: “I’ve already left her behind miles away. why are you still carrying her?”
Interpretation: you still can touch/help a women, it is your state of mind that is important.

The last line has the message which means discharging duty in a way that you don’t get influenced by the action you perform and one who can do that can live without rules. In other words such a person lives in the spirtual realm. But those in the physical realm is sensitive to the sensory world of touch, taste, vision etc and the rules are meant for them. How’s that for a comment? 😉 When I read it over, I was impressed…. Very well presentation by zen pencils. You rock!

What we see here is an excellent reminder of the trappings of dogmatic thought. To adhere blindly to ALL the rules that were created centuries ago to govern one’s ancestors is foolish and shortsighted.

This story is one of the best ones in my opinion. Apart from all the discussed interpretations I want to add one more. I think it can be related to the contemporary world. People in the name of rules/order/obligations forget what is right and what is wrong and moreover they will try to stop the other people from doing it. The acolyte himself didn’t help the lady and was trying to become loud on the priest as well.

You know it is rather funny to see people debating the best interpretation of the point of a zen fable considering how much of zen focuses on purpose in the moment and perception.

The most valuable thing I learned from my scant studies of the subject was the realization that a chair is really only a chair when it is “chairing.” Outside of that it’s a heap of wood shaped into a certain form. Another way to think of it is that the instant a bar-fight breaks out and someone cracks it over anther guys head it’s no longer really “chairing” but bludgeoning, therefore it’s now a weapon as far as its purpose goes.

Hopefully that serves the point I’d like to make that the point of any proverb or fable is what you interpret it and put it to use as.

The old monk was very well detached from the worldly pleasures; so carrying that woman, the young sibling, or some stone would have been same to him.
That is why he could just drop of the lady(from his shoulder and mind) on the other side of the stream easily.

And more importantly, I guess the monks life-style/rules prohibits worldly material pleasures, it doesn’t prohibits them from touching any particular thing.

Had to chime in here because Zen in the Martial Arts is a truly amazing book (and the contents do justify the word). I found it before I became a Buddhist and it’s still one of the most amazing volumes of practical Buddhist wisdom I’ve ever found.

Since I’m here, I might as well drop my two cents in. Since I’ve read the book and thus heard this before, I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. Like most koans, there are many lessons here. To me, the main one is about clear sight.

The older monk saw things very differently than the young monk did. What the older monk saw that the younger monk didn’t was a chance to create happiness and joy. That’s something I didn’t see mentioned before. By carrying the woman across the river, he spread joy into the world. Let’s assume for the moment that both of them were young monks and both declined. The young woman would either still be waiting or would ruin her attire. Either one would put her in a bad mood, and either one would generate a bit of ill will toward those that didn’t help her. Misery is contagious. Now let’s look at what actually happened. By carrying the woman across, he left her with a good impression of the monks, brightened her day and left her with a beautiful gown. When she got to where she was going, not only would her appearance be good, but her mood would as well. Joy is contagious too.

What the young monk saw was a block, a challenge to his faith, something to be resisted. That was increased even further when he chose to continue to carry that long after the river was crossed. He didn’t see, or look for, the way to bring compassion and kindness to the world around him. When the old monk scolded him, he did it in terms the young monk would understand. “The burden is gone, yet you carry it in your mind.”

For the old monk, there was no problem at all. There was simply an opportunity to spread joy because that’s the way he chose to see the situation. The young monk chose to see the situation in a different, less enlightened light, and thus carried the woman much further than the old monk did.

While I believe that the interpretation about this story is to help those in need, I also think the ultimate lesson here is not to carry your past with you, rather, live in the present. The old monk clearly states that he let the girl off at the other side of the river, while figuratively, the younger monk is still carrying her. The moral is to not let the emotions and things that make your angry stay with you.

I thought, being that this is a Buddhist story, the moral was to not hold to such fast and steady rules. Life is fluidity and being so rigid will only create pain in your life. The older monk broke the rule because he knew no rules are absolute. When the younger monk is still distressed even after the event has happened, the older monk shows him that he is only creating pain for himself unnecessarily by still “carrying” her even though it’s over and done.

Zen practizes are about accepting what the present moment brings, and then at the next second let it go with no attachements to it. That’s why it focuses on breathing: accepting, then letting go, then accepting what’s next, then letting go. It compares the content of the mind as waves on a beach: come and go. So the Zen person is all the time “pure” of any ideas inside the head, being memories about the past (either far or recent) or wishes for the future. The zen man is 100% focused on the present and gives importance only to it, since nothing else really exist.
So the older monk accepts what the present offers, do what must be done, and then continues ahead with no attachments to it (no guilt, no suffer, no obsession, no self-judgement)
Any attachment to an idea that is linked to the past is an excuse to not being in the present.
That was the lesson.

The “Why are you still carrying her?” part is the most telling, I think. It’s easier to live with the things you have done or not done if you choose for yourself, rather than let a rigid formula dictate your choices.

Follow the rule by its spirit, not its letter. If we follow a rule by the letter, we may, in a direct or indirect way, negate the purpose of the rule and its original intention. If we keep in the forefront of our minds the spirit behind each rule, we will know when the rules we follow, which may sometimes be contradictory, apply to a given situation in the present, and which rules do not.

Not touching the flesh of a woman is meant to deter monks from succumbing to sexual desire; however, in this instance, that rule does not apply because the situation is not one inviting sexual interaction. Helping a person in need, however, is the rule that applies, for that is the rule that will make the situation complete.

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Why are you people arguing about the meaning of this? Don’t you understand Zen and Buddhist philosophy AT ALL? There is no “universal answer” to this riddle; we each must find the answer that resonates with our being. Quit arguing; no one is right or wrong. There is no universal truth, there is only the truth that we each find within the framework of our own lives. That is the beauty of these Zen sayings: there is no right or wrong answer, there is only the answer that speaks to us as an individual.

The story told in the cartoon above doesn’t have anything to do with desire or breaking a rule. I believe that it shows how people let something weigh heavily on their minds after something is all said or done. The younger fellow demonstrates that by still worrying about what the older man did even though the man itself has let the issue go. The older man even gives a perfect example of how others hold on to an issue even if it didn’t affect them directly or it went against their thoughts/beliefs by saying “Younger Sibling… I put the girl down on the other side of the stream. Why are you still carrying her?” People in life let the actions of others weigh heavily on their minds when they shouldn’t be carrying it in the first place as the matter was taken care of by the person who initiated such an event. I’m not saying my post is the right one or correct in any way but this is how I feel what the poem said to me as in life I sometimes have let the actions of others weigh on my mind when they had already moved on and came to peace with what they did in the first place.

I will always give a nice thrust look in to you from my bookmark feed. I don’t actually comment and don’t like to spend time in typing the comment. But here I have to do this because this deserves a good like.

I believe the proverb about practicing equanimity. To not desire nor be averse to anything. As something comes into your life, acknowledge it and appreciate it, then let it go. The “rule” that’s being broken speaks to desire and lust, which the priest clearly isn’t captive to. The young acolyte is caught up in the dogma so he carries the burden of judgement. In the priest’s response, he tells him that the situation has passed. Why carry the weight of it? Set it down and move on.

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The second, younger monk is the main character in this story. He could not forgive the elder monk for his sin.
I think it’s about forgiving. The face that someone did bad/wrong doesn’t mean you should blame him and bother him about it – especially when he realizes his mistake, like the elder monk did

I’ve had tons of odd jobs, but I think that I would probably be a fireman because you get to see the results of your job. You get there and there is a house on fire. You leave and there’s not a fire anymore.

There is a difference between being a leader and being a boss. Both are based on authority. A boss demands blind obedience; a leader earns his authority through understanding and trust. Klaus Balkenhol